


take my arms (that i might reach you)

by ivermectin, orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Lowercase, M/M, Scene: The Bus Ride (Good Omens), Scene: The Bus Stop (Good Omens), Vague angst, and falling asleep on them in public, gay best friends being gay best friends, sometimes intimacy is just knowing someone for 6 millenia, u know ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivermectin/pseuds/ivermectin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: there aren't any words for how tired crowley is, in any language.(good thing he has aziraphale, hm?)





	take my arms (that i might reach you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinodream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinodream/gifts).

> this entire thing is in lowercase because i was trying to write something small, for tumblr only, you know. like, 100 words/200 words kind of thing. as you can see from the fact that i crossed 500... that didn't happen, and i do Not have the energy to edit caps in, so take this baby as it is. 
> 
> @ my best friend/ platonic soulmate - this is for you. it's not Exactly what i wanted it to be, because i dissociated a little while writing it, but it's Something, u know. and i'll keep writing until i get it right. anyway this baby is my pride and joy, so have some words of gay. whatever. words of gay. haha. 
> 
> title from "the sound of silence" by simon and garfunkel, because i've been listening to the acoustic version of that for an hour on repeat. it gives me crowley feels, ok. i love it.

there aren’t words for how tired crowley is, in any language. the smell of burning bookshop still haunts him, even sitting beside aziraphale, who’s drinking straight from the bottle, slouched over as if being a proper angel is the least of his concerns. aziraphale had done the unthinkable, in some ways, crowley knew this. possessed a random human, gone against his boss, stood beside crowley with defiance –this loyalty was something crowley had never dared to hope for. aziraphale’s faith, he’d always thought, belonged to god, and to her foremost. he’d never dared to even dream otherwise. 

but right then, they’re sitting on the bench, and aziraphale is joking about how incompetent the two of them are at their jobs. crowley can see him in the dim light, and feels the adrenaline from the long day he’s had slowly ebbing away. something echoes hollowly in his chest. the bookshop, more crowley’s home than his actual residence: gone. crowley’s bentley? also gone. aziraphale remains, though. aziraphale is here. next to him, his entire body looking soft in the dim light.

he gives the sword back, and crowley watches. thinks of what he’s allowed to have, what he isn’t, and what he would never even dare to ask for. the bus stops by their bench, and they get up together, the two of them, in a single, fluid moment. aziraphale is the one who does it – reaches out, links their hands, gently leads crowley in. crowley lets himself be shepherded in, sits by the window and watches, half disbelievingly, as aziraphale sits down next to him, not letting go of their hands.

aziraphale does not say “_are you alright, my dear_,” but crowley knows that he’s thinking it. crowley’s acutely aware of how close they are, the sides of their bodies touching. and aziraphale isn’t flinching away – the look in his eyes is tender, and if anything, he seems to be openly encouraging their closeness. like a shudder running through prey animal, or someone remembering to stop holding their breath and breathe again, crowley lets his body relax. he slouches against aziraphale, and, testing out boundaries, he lets his head rest on aziraphale’s shoulder.  


aziraphale turns his head, ever so slightly, and presses a kiss to the top of crowley’s head.

_oh, _crowley finds himself thinking.  


“get some rest, my love,” aziraphale says, very very softly. “i’ll wake you up when we reach your place.”  


“ngk,” crowley says. he lets the sensation of being next to aziraphale lull him into a sense of security. for the first time in the entire day, he lets himself feel safe. and he slips into a gentle sleep, but he’s vaguely aware of aziraphale’s arm snaking around him, holding him securely to his body, as if keeping him stable while the bus moves.

half-asleep and indescribably tired, crowley smiles. he falls into a deeper slumber with the smile still on his face.  


it’s such a blessing, to be loved by an angel. more than crowley could’ve hoped for. more than crowley thinks he deserves. something it still blows his mind to know that he has.  


**Author's Note:**

> put this on tumblr as well, here:  
https://botanicallycrowley.tumblr.com/post/188283414617/wrote-this-little-thing-for-redportrait-read-it
> 
> it's a screenshot of an image so like. if u want to download this fic as a picture without taking a screenshot of your own, THERE U GO. 
> 
> i used the "georgia" font, too! and everybody who is anybody knows that georgia is The Best Font :')


End file.
